Road Trip. Day ????? Oh. Day 6. Breakfast In Martinsville, Va.

On Thursday, Day 5, we left Asheville and drove to Virginia so Mr. Hawthorne could visit with his Mommie. Friday morning we went out for breakfast. That's my truck in the reflection.

As you must know by now, Mr. Hawthorne spares no expense when taking me out to dine. Breakfast Friday morning was no exception. Our venue was McMillan's Family Restaurant, known to the regulars as Hank's.

I followed him in the back door entrance. Upon leaving, I nearly fell flat on my face since there's about an 8-10 inch drop. Mr. Hawthorne gallantly opened the door for wifey ...

... and escorted me in to this. Oh wait, there's another door. Fresh roses adorned the counter. We were warmly greeted (This is the South.) and seated and each brought a steaming cuppa Joe. I got my unsweetened ice tea with 5 pieces of lemon.

Here's the breakfast menu.

Here's the view out my window.

I noticed Mr. Hawthorne becoming increasingly agitated so I turned around and immediately recognized the source of his distress. The coke clock was askew. Mr. Hawthorne can be quite anal about these things. As a matter of fact, I regularly go through the house and tilt my picture frames just to mess with him. I used to have a Buick with a hood ornament. Whenever I knew he'd be driving that car, I would always turn the ornament just slightly. He'd be driving down the road and notice the errant ornament and would immediately have to pull over and adjust the wayward decoration. Ahhhh. Good times. I offered to switch seats but he said he'd just stare at the table.

Our waitress was Becka Jo.

The service is excellent. Within minutes, our plates arrived. I had a sunny-side up egg, bacon, and hash browns.

Mr. Hawthorne had sausages, egg over easy, fried apples, sausage gravy, and grits.

Biscuits and buttered toast. Excellent meal. Set us back $10 and change plus tip.

Regulars at the counter.

Mr. Hawthorne's 93-year old step father, Stonehenge, was there and joined us at our table. He was telling us the story about one of his renters who was behind in her payments, although she had money to take vacations. He showed up to demand payment and the renter told him she knew her rights, blah, blah, blah, yada, yada, yada. Stonehenge replied, "You know I carry a 38 in my pocket. If you're not outta here by noon Friday Imonna show it to you." When he returned Friday, she was gone. As if to drive home his point, Stonehenge pulled out his Smith & Wesson to show it to us. As if we didn't believe he was packin' heat. I was scrambling to get a picture, but just got him tucking it back in his pocket. I hate it when I miss the moment.

An excellent meal was had by all.

Nice paint job on the bowling alley across the street.

Mr. H. fondly recalled his misspent youth. He'd drive in here with his black 1963 Ford Galaxy with a 39o cubic engine, all jacked up in the ass, with a Hurst floor shifter. He'd back up against the back wall with all the others showing off their muscle cars. Most of the time carrying hunting rifles and shotguns in the trunk. And smoking their Marlboro cigs for 32 cents a pack. He ran with the cool crowd.